


Harsh Reality

by odainath



Category: Spooks | MI-5
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-12 22:53:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5684101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odainath/pseuds/odainath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set post-9.07.  "Don't flatter yourself, Harry.  I've always been like this."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harsh Reality

**Harsh Reality**

* * *

 

**Author’s notes:**   A tiny fic that came to mind after watched 9.07 and based on this scene.

 

_“I killed a man last night… and I’m fine.”_

 

Here goes, my first Harry/Ruth fic.  Enjoy.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s pouring rain and he keeps his head down as he rings the doorbell.  She opens the door a few seconds later and stands in the doorway, one hand resting on the doorframe, eyebrows raised.  She doesn’t look surprised to see him and says nothing as she turns and walks down the hallway, leaving him to follow. 

He wipes his feet on the mat and watches her retreating figure.  She’s wearing a singlet and pyjama bottoms and he can see the dark bruises that mark her pale skin easily.  She stops in the living room and folds her arms across her chest, waiting for him to speak.  The movement causes her singlet to rise up, showing the rise of her hipbone and yet another purple bruise.

 Anger floods through him and he thinks for a second that if she hadn’t killed the man, he would have done so himself. 

“Why are you here, Harry?” she asks. 

He opens his mouth but no words come out and he looks about her living room.  His eyes fall on the coffee table and he sees the letter in child’s handwriting and the photograph peeking out from beneath a half-full cup of tea.  She follows his gaze and takes a step to the side, blocking it from view.

 “Harry?” she says again. 

He returns his gaze to the face and – for a horrid second – thinks that she looks half-dead in the flickering light from the fire.  She’s lost weight since returning from Greece and her body is no longer formed of curves but of vertices and angles.  It’s in stark contrast to the woman who started work for him less than ten years ago, full of smiles and laughter.  Now he rarely sees her smile for more than a second, and now it’s a tiny tug of her lips and nothing more.

 He couldn’t begin to think how long it’s been since he’s heard her laugh. 

“What have I done to you?” he asks.  

His voice is straggled, choked and she tilts her head a fraction to the side.

 “Don’t flatter yourself, Harry,” she says after a moment.  “I’ve always been like this.” 


End file.
